Aria
The safe house was surprisingly homey for a place owned by someone like Cassian. Overstuffed furniture, wooden beams across the ceiling, large windows overlooking the ocean. If circumstances were different, it might have been romantic.
Minutes later, he returned with a plate of sandwiches and a glass of orange juice. "Here you go. This should tide you over."
I took the plate, our fingers brushing. We both pretended not to notice. "Thank you," I said softly. I meant it for more than just the food.
He nodded, taking a seat across from me instead of beside me. "I ordered Chinese takeout. It should be here soon."
"That sounds great." I took a bite of the sandwich, suddenly ravenous. It was simple—turkey, cheese, lettuce—but right then, it tasted better than any five-star meal. "I'll
